


Terra Atlantis

by seikaitsukimizu



Series: Absolute Corruption [2]
Category: Stargate - All Series, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode Tag, Episode: s04e17 Absolute Power, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:09:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seikaitsukimizu/pseuds/seikaitsukimizu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Talk of an alien city, a possible colony, spreads throughout the world. News organizations and talk shows speak of nothing else, and it gets to the point where Rodney can’t even listen to the people around Antarctica."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terra Atlantis

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted 8/3/08 on LJ](http://seikaitsukimizu.livejournal.com/145392.html)

The Asgard were extremely interested in the Atlantis Project. Rodney isn’t invited to the meeting, still studying the platform in Antarctica, but John tells him later that there’s some great enemy they’re fighting in their own galaxy, and they’re hoping there’s some technology to help in the battle. Rodney doesn’t really want to think about an enemy that frightens the Asgard. Even Daniel was more of a minor threat, only wanting to wipe out the Goa’uld. 

But who knew how far he’d go once this galaxy was secured. The thought keeps Rodney up all night while John sleeps next to him, curled on his side and arms across Rodney, possessive and reassuring, the same position he’s slept in since returning almost four years ago. 

Two more Asgard cruisers appear in orbit, while talk of an alien city, a possible colony, spreads throughout the world. News organizations and talk shows speak of nothing else, and it gets to the point where Rodney can’t even listen to the people around Antarctica, because there are theories and stories and gossip flying around and it’s giving him all a headache. When Lorne hands him an Ipod with special noise-cancelling headphones, he almost gives the man a hug. Almost.

One cruiser immediately heads for the coordinates, with an ETA of only two weeks. The other cruiser is for those who will go, the people to find an Ancient city, to bring the technology of Rodney’s dreams alive. Maybe even bring it to Earth, since some of the rubbings on the base suggest the city can actually fly through space (and yes, John goes completely starry-eyed when Rodney tells him). 

The _Prometheus_ almost goes, but the Asgard refuse to share intergalactic hyperspace technology, so such a trip would take years, and instead it’s used to patrol the solar system, learning Asgard battle tactics and taking close scans of Mars. Daniel may have been a megalomaniac, but some of his plans hold merit, and colonizing Mars would help some of their overpopulation problems. 

The scientists around him are excited and sending gifts and letters and emails to General O’Neill citing their references and experience and how much the Asgard like them (which is perhaps most important, since the Asgard only like a relative handful of humans). Some, Rodney finds out, even put him down as a reference, or a character witness, or--the worst of all--a suggestion for Chief Scientist on the expedition. 

He knows because one weekend he rings to John’s home, a two-story affair with a security bunker and nearly five acres of land surrounding it so he can land his small, private plane. Lorne lives with them, officially to help protect John Sheppard, international hero. Unofficially, John can take care of himself, and Lorne’s a fixture to deter anyone who wants to retaliate against Daniel’s administration, no matter how much good Rodney did in the end.

He still gets at least seven death threats a month.

When he arrives that weekend, John off on some official meeting and Lorne at his side, General O’Neill is sitting on the front steps. He seems relaxed and alone, but Rodney knows there’s at least three body guards around and a surveillance satellite zeroed in on the area. “O’Neill.”

“McKay, Major.” He nods and stands up. “Got any beer?”

“American piss or real beer,” Lorne asks, grinning and nudging Rodney in the side. It’s a running gag between them, one that started during Rodney’s incarceration. 

Jack squints. “You’re into some kinky shit, McKay.”

Rodney rolls his eyes and goes through the retinal and thumb scan needed to unlock and de-arm the security system. He steps in first, hears O’Neill follow him, but some silent communication must happen because when he turns around, Lorne is standing at attention outside as the door is closed. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit.”

Jack spreads his arms. “I asked for beer, didn’t I?”

Rodney feels his shoulders tense, but he tosses his coat and briefcase on the dining room table (John hates it, but he won’t be back till Sunday, so Rodney doesn’t care) and grabs one of John’s beers, and one of his own. When he returns, Jack has stretched out in John’s favorite recliner and is staring at the plasma flat screen, remote in his hand as he flips through the sports channels.

Rodney hands Jack’s beer over silently and sits on the couch. Oddly, sports survived the years of tyranny, even thrived on the situation. Which means humanity will never not be distracted by inane physical exertions and thus be relegated to technological stagnation and the butt of Asgard jokes.

Well, not really, it feels that way sometimes, though. John always chuckles when Rodney heaves the sports sigh.

Jack interprets it as something else, and mutes the current football game. “What, you don’t like the Colts?” Rodney just takes a swig from his beer, giving Jack the evil eye. It can still send scientists running in fear. It doesn’t even faze the General, though he does rotate his shoulders uncomfortably. “So, the Atlantis expedition.”

“Probably even more important than the knowledge Daniel received about the Goa’uld.” Rodney scoots to the edge of his seat. “These are the people who built the Stargate system. The old allies of the Asgard and Nox-”

“I get it, I get it. Don’t do anything stupid like cancelling the mission or send morons.” Jack purses his lips. “You got any suggestions?”

Rodney pauses at that. He trusts Jack, but not necessarily the people he works with. Since the announcement he’s formed a comprehensive mental list of scientists that should go, that have the best hope of unlocking the secrets of the Ancients. He’s at the top of that list.

The actual list is a lot shorter, and conspicuously lacking his name. “I can email you a few suggestions. Astrophysicists, engineers, linguists.”

Jack keeps his eyes on his bottle. “If you were in charge, your primary choices.”

“Brendan Gall.” He’s the head of Area 51 now, is young, and has had almost as much success with alien technology as Rodney has. “He’s arrogant, but he’s good.” He pauses. “Peter Grodin. He’s an Engineer, but he’s worked internationally, picks up languages pretty fast.” Another beat. “Jennifer Keller. She helped institute the integration of alien medical tech with our own. And she was chosen by the General Surgeon’s committee, not Daniel.”

Jack nods, still not looking at him. His beer is open, but still not drunk. “Who would you put in charge?”

His first choice would be himself, then Elizabeth Weir, but she’s head of the International Oversight Committee, practically a world president. She couldn’t leave. “Richard Woolsey. He’s been a good liaison between the civilian governments, the world military, and the Asgard.”

Jack wrinkles his nose. “He’s a bit mousey. Also, you aren’t supposed to know about him.”

“John talks in his sleep.” Which is a blatant lie, but he knows Jack won’t call him on it. He understands why John and Lorne keep Rodney filled in on events. There’s always a chance his sentence, though finished, could be renewed by political shifts. 

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Jack nods. “Alright, email me the rest. If you like ‘em, they’re probably not too stupid.” 

Rodney wonders if they’ve been having trouble choosing who to go. The Asgard cruiser, though larger than their warships, is still fairly small, maybe able to accommodate two hundred people before supplies. With a world of over a million scientists, how do you choose the cream of the crop, the ones not put on the list by political manipulation or nepotism. Maybe he’s the only unbiased resource Jack can tap. 

“You know you can’t, right?” Jack glances at him, not smiling or frowning, just making the barest of eye-contact. “Even though some want you to.”

“I know.” That’s what hurt the most. There are people willing to vouch for him, he knows he’s the best there is, especially without Sam around, but Antarctica was a concession made because he got the technology to work. The IOA would never approve of his presence on such an important mission. 

“You know we need him, too.”

Rodney swallows slowly at that. He had a suspicion, but hasn’t told John. The Asgard have been scanning for people with John’s gene ever since it was discovered that evolutionary step may help them with a medical issue. He hasn’t seen the official list, but he’s heard rumors, still has connections. Jack’s is pretty strong, and Lorne’s isn’t bad, but John may as well be the son of an Ancient with how strong it is. “And Lorne?”

“He’s staying. Need someone to use the chair in case the Asgard drop the ball.” One goa’uld has tried attacking thus far, but ever since Daniel’s defense net obliterated two others, Earth has been mainly left alone. The Tok’ra have remained silent, so no one’s really sure what the situation is. No one really minds, either, as long as they leave the Sol system alone.

“When?”

Jack does look directly at him now. “You know I can’t.”

Rodney knows. Technically, he knows too much already. Jack’s risking enough just by admitting they need John in the first place. “I could hack in. Find out.”

“You’d be shot.” Jack sighs and scrubs his face with a hand. “The Asgard have given us another five days to decide, then they’re beaming up whoever we’ve got.”

“Does he know?”

“He’ll be finding out about,” Jack looks at his watch, “now, actually.” He refocuses his attention to his beer bottle. “You know, if it were up to me-”

“I’m too busy anyways,” Rodney interrupts. He never did like pity, or what-ifs. He waves off Jack’s suspicious look. “The sensors in the north lab are running on limited power, but I think if we hooked them up to either the ZedPM or a naquadah reactor, I’m pretty sure we can get an active scan of at least our area of the galaxy. Of course, that won‘t help us with cloaked ships, but it might help us gather some intel, or at least give us some minor early warnings.”

Jack stares at him, and Rodney carefully doesn’t look back, instead taking another drink from his beer and turning his attention to the game. Finally, he feels Jack’s gaze leave him and he un-mutes the TV. “Cool,” he says, and they watch the rest of the game in silence.

~*()*~

Rodney wasn’t lying about the sensors, and between removing them from their frozen encasement and repairing the damaged code, he’s almost able to forget that last week where he made lists and files and compressed media onto a single laptop so that John wouldn’t be bored. He can almost forget the way John traced his fingers over his entire body, memorized him with touch and tongue and tangled limbs. He can almost forget the way John whispered into his skin, like that night years ago, promises to return, to bring him new technology, to remember. He nearly forgets the intense, brief parting kiss they shared the morning John had to leave, because Rodney wasn’t allowed into the new SGC, and so they had to say goodbye at home.

He can almost forget that it’s been two months since the second Asgard ship has left for Atlantis, and there’s been no word, no return trip since.

Jack takes to stopping by at least once a week, for a beer and a football game, just staying for a few hours, saying nothing. He’s worried too, Rodney finally figures out the sixth week, and has no one to share that with who won’t exploit that weakness. Even though there’s no need since he converted Lorne months ago, he continues to buy John’s watery beer. It almost always brings a smile to Jack’s face.

Lorne sticks close by, coming with him to Antarctica from time to time to see what’s going on, visit the old Resistance tunnels, and run tests with the Ancient technology. He jokes and teases and tries to help, and it does, a little. Lorne isn’t a dumb grunt--not as smart as John, granted--and while he can’t keep up in Prime/Not Prime, they have a number of healthy debates on the composite of Ancient materials and where they’d even find deposits or how they’d be manufactured. It’s a form of work, though less stressful since nothing’s really hinging on what they figure out, and the discussions always go late into the night so that Rodney can almost handle going to bed alone.

He tries calling Jeannie, and gets his niece instead. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says hi, and after a few awkward minutes just hangs up. An hour later, Jeannie contacts him, screams for a solid twenty minutes, then tells him to fuck off. Rodney doesn’t bother defending himself. Jeannie lost a lot of good friends in Russia, not to mention those that were brainwashed or killed in the early days of Daniel’s reign, all easily done thanks to Rodney’s technological adaptations.

Lorne lets him win at chess that night. He goes to bed early and stares at the ceiling, then calls in sick the next day.

He tries calling Carson once, too. The man answers and they stare at each other over the screen. It’s the first time they’ve communicated since the incarceration. There’s a good ten minutes of silence, then, “I’m sorry.” Carson doesn’t even blink. “I never really apologized, for everything I did.” Carson nods, slowly. He’s the only one who can really understand what it was like, to do evil things for the greater good. “I didn’t know who else to talk to,” he finally admits.

Carson just keeps looking at him. “You’re not a bad man, Rodney,” he finally says, his accent thicker since he’s return home to Scotland. He says nothing else and cuts the connection. Lorne finds Rodney sitting there hours later, watching the screensaver of hyperspace, and tugs and cajoles him into the kitchen for dinner.

Thirteen weeks (but really, who’s counting, besides the military, the scientists at Antarctica, the news programs every single night) after the Atlantis Expedition has left, Rodney finishes the last line of code, isolates the last of the power fluctuations, and gets the sensors to work on a long-range scale. There’s clapping and high-fives and even some cheering at being able to see nearly one thousand light-years in every direction in real time. 

Then Jack points to the screen. “Is that a moth?”

Everyone looks, and Rodney can feel the panic rising as the object in question--larger than a goa’uld mother-ship, larger than anything the Asgard have--moves quickly but steadily towards Earth. He’s surprised the Asgard haven’t picked it up yet, but while everyone starts questioning and Jack makes a call and Lorne tries to clear the area, Rodney looks at the scan results themselves.

He could’ve pushed them farther, allowed them to see nearly half the galaxy with the sensors, and he still may eventually, but right now he sacrificed distance so he could get resolution and details, actually gather information on objects within sensor range. The Asgard haven’t picked it up and warned them, Rodney notes, because whatever it is has some sort of shield that he’s pretty sure blinds it to all sensors. All sensors but those of the Gate builders.

“This is bad. Really, really bad. Or good. I don’t know.” Lorne hears him mumbling, and then he’s surrounded by Lorne and Jack and a half-dozen scientists and explaining the scan results and how the thing is as big as Denver or the Bay Area or some really big city and it’s too steady to be an asteroid or any spatial phenomenon. They have about a week before it arrives and no, he doesn’t know who or what is flying that thing, but if they have shields that allow it to hide from the Asgard, he’s willing to bet their weapons won’t be much use against it, either.

Suddenly it’s like his last week with Daniel and the day Moscow vanished all together because Rodney’s suddenly in command of the Antarctic outpost and is running drills with Lorne and making sure the ZedPM is ready to fire off any weapons left over and trying to get more detailed analysis of the ship. People and soldiers are following his orders and midway he has a flashback to his time with Daniel and feels himself get dizzy and excuses himself to get some air. 

Arctic wasteland, as it turns out, is very good at slapping someone back into reality.

The Asgard can’t spare any more ships, so the two in orbit stand guard along with the Prometheus and the newly not-quite-finished-but-close-enough Daedalus. Rodney’s not looking forward to what’ll happen if the ship is hostile, because the power readings are the equivalent of three ZedPMs, and even with four ships and the outpost, they have no where near that firepower. 

And then there’s radio traffic, a lot of Asgard radio traffic, and before anyone knows what’s happening, the two orbital cruisers rush in to face the ship. Except instead of fighting, they seem to be entering a landing bay, and then the power readings jump higher and there’s a very tense moment where he’s sure they’re going to die, and then the ship is broadcasting to every radio on the planet.

_“Earth, this is Atlantis. Clear out the northern Atlantic, we’re coming in for a rough landing.”_

Rodney chokes and gulps and can’t get enough air, but then Lorne’s there, telling him to breathe, yelling for someone to grab some oxygen as he guides Rodney to the floor. Rodney doesn’t care, doesn’t mind that he looks like gob-smacked moron going into shock as Lorne slips a plastic mask over his nose and mouth.

John’s alive. And he found Atlantis. And he brought it to Earth.

_“Sheppard, it’s about damned time,”_ Jack replies over the open channel from the SGC, tying in the Antarctic Post, the IOA, and the two Earth vessels. _“Do you have any idea how late your evaluations are?”_

_“Sorry ‘bout that, sir. Had a little power trouble and lost all my paperwork to flooding.”_

_“Likely story. We’ll see you after you land.”_

_“Roger. Gonna concentrate now. Not as easy to fly this thing as it looks.”_ And then Jack’s telling them to stand down and Atlantis enters Earth’s orbit and begins its descent and despite the oxygen Rodney blacks out just before the city hits the ocean.

~*()*~

“I can’t believe you fainted, McKay.” 

“Passed out from manly hungry,” Rodney says petulantly, but since his head’s on John’s thigh, he’s willing to forgive him. “I’ll have you know I’ve been working very hard getting us on par with the Asgard’s sensor technology, not to mention you and your silent approach was freaking the world out. The least you could’ve done was dial in and let us know you were coming.”

“Needed all the power from the Asgard cruisers to mimic the ZPM power. We only had the shield around the tower for most of the trip.” John runs a hand through Rodney’s hair. “Did you miss me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I was so busy I didn’t even notice you were gone.” He rubs his hand over John’s knee, feeling a new scar from where he tripped on Atlantis’ Gateroom steps. Rodney made John tell him everything, from the instant they arrived to the week-long debriefing where Rodney spent most of his time pacing and staring at the TV without watching what was on and having Lorne watch him eat food automatically and not even remember what it was. “I was actually warm in bed, Mr. Endotherm. And I didn’t have to fight for my pillow.”

“It was my pillow and you know it.” He can hear the fond smile in John’s words. “You want to keep working at the Outpost?”

“Don’t have much of a choice, since we really should move the city back to its original position, though we’ll have to clear out a bunch of snow and figure out the original configuration-”

“Cause Jack was talking with Weir, who spoke with Woolsey and the IOA, and they might have another job for you.”

“Oh really? And what would that be.” Actually, Rodney was planning on spending a lot of time with John. In bed. Around the house. Maybe even in his death-trap plane a little. 

“They have leading scientists opening labs and delving into the Ancient database, but the IOA is keeping the shield up in case of any intergalactic microbes or something.”

“So?”

“Well, the Asgard don’t mind lending us a ship to do that, but eventually they’re gonna want it back. So they need someone to head up a ZPM research group. Preferably someone who’s already an expert, and can translate some of the language.”

Rodney feels his shoulders tense. “I’m going to Atlantis?”

“Actually, they were thinking something a little more local, so you could be home in time for dinner. Maybe spend some time relaxing.” John presses his thumb into the back of Rodney’s neck and massages it until he relaxes. “And I’ve got some leave backed up. Lorne can cover gene-activating in the city for a while.”

Rodney looks up at him. “Really?”

John grins and bends down to kiss him. “What do you say, McKay.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” and he does, for a few seconds, because he’s a little bit stunned. Then he pulls John down for another kiss, and his hand finds its way under John’s shirt, and then they’re on the floor and clothes are vanishing and this time, Rodney mouths into John’s skin ‘Yes, yes, yes.’

John laughs and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Way back when I wrote "Absolute Corruption" a number a reviewers wanted to know what happened next. Did they go to Atlantis; Who went, who stayed; Was it a happy ending for them all? Well, I decided to write a snippet sequel, and here are the answers to some of those questions.


End file.
